


A Six-Foot-Tall Wet Girl in a Donna Karan Dress

by tobyneedspie



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobyneedspie/pseuds/tobyneedspie
Summary: ***This is fully written/drafted/etc but it's going to take me a while to get it all set to go, especially without a beta***Mandy: They sent pictures of the Malibu place. It's great.CJ:This wasn't the one we used during the primary?Mandy: No, he bought another place.CJ: Where was the one where Roberto Benigni pushed me into this swimming pool?Mandy: That was Larry Posner's house, but that was the old place. CJ....if it gets a vote then isn't it worth it?CJ: Which would be fine if Roberto Benigni can vote in our elections, but since he's Italian, that makes me a six foot wet girl in a Donna Karan dress. --1x05 'The Crackpots and These Women'
Relationships: C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler
Comments: 26
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier parts are maybe Teen at best, but later parts definitely dip into the Explicit realm, so I didn't know how to rate it... :-/
> 
> Y'all said you wanted more.... Ask and ye shall receive. I genuinely didn't think there was as much demand as there seems to be. There's definitely some more tumbling around in my head, don't fret.

Toby hated everything about Los Angeles-- the heat, the traffic, the smarmy attitudes of the Hollywood elites that they all had to schmooze with. He was serious when he argued in the Oval Office about the hypocrisy of taking donations one night and condemning the content of productions the next day. Personally, he'd prefer just to make the speeches and move on, but instead they're at Larry Posner's house, doing yet another soul-numbing fundraiser with the same old Hollywood elites they’ve courted for the last couple years.

The mechanics of the political machine dictate formal dress and all its trappings when they conduct these events. While he has become accustomed to all the fuss, he definitely doesn’t enjoy it. To him it’s merely a fancy uniform, and a constant variation on the basic theme of a tuxedo and formal suits that are much more trouble and discomfort than they are worth. The only things getting him through this particular event are a copious amount of alcohol and constantly watching CJ as she moves from group to group, greeting and entertaining everyone. She looks magnificent to him, wearing some glittering gown that hugs her curves that he can’t wait to peel off her. Between the required social niceties and the impending speech tomorrow, he’s burnt out at both ends and their escape back to the hotel tonight can’t come soon enough. They’ve been planning their own private party after the fundraiser for weeks and he can’t wait to finally have a night with her away from everything— even if it’s a very late one.

His mind drifts to just what he wants to do when he gets to peel the dress off her tonight, fingers tingling with the memory of the smoothness of her skin against his fingertips, mouth watering at the thought of tasting her again. How he wants to explore every inch with his hands and mouth as it is revealed, taking his time to trace a manifesto of desire on her flesh. He’s snapped back to to reality by a yelp and splash, noticing how everyone suddenly goes silent and watches the thrashing and spluttering figure in the pool. He goes to harangue whoever was dumb enough to make a scene in the middle of their event and realizes that idiot is CJ. He watches her carefully, but once she finds her footing and appears to be ok he finds himself trying hard not to laugh at her— apparently her falling into a pool fully dressed just doesn’t get old. She looks like a drowned, angry cat, muttering something unintelligible as she tries to make her way out of the pool. He finds himself unable to look away as she fights her way through the water, battling against her gown that seems to be weighing her down. He moves to the edge of the pool as he watches her fight her way to the stairs, struggling to exit the water in heels while being weighed down by what he figures to be 20 or 30 pounds of fancy, completely soaked dress. When she gets close enough for him to hear a muttered “I’m going to kill him”, he realizes it wasn’t her klutziness that landed her in the pool this time and he feels himself flush at the suddenly blazing anger that someone had the audacity to put their hands on any of their people, much less *her*. They’ve got enough to deal with to sort this out from the spectacle alone, much less assault on a staffer.

As she grabs the handrail and starts to make her way up the stairs, he and Josh both reach out hands to her in assistance. All it earns them are glares of anger hotter than the surface of the sun. She looks straight at each of them and growls, and both of them drop their extended hands in capitulation. 

“You ok?” Josh asks with a smirk still painting the corners of his mouth. 

“Yes,” she seethes. Josh is visibly taken aback and takes a step backwards, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get out of firing range. He appears to realize that a hasty retreat might be a better choice for him right now and heads back to hobnob with the rest of the guests and act like nothing has happened. Toby remains firmly locked in place, ready to take whatever she intends to dish out. He can handle it.

She stubbornly refuses his help and struggles her way up the stairs under her own power. He sighs in both annoyance and infatuation, as she looks to him like an angry Siren coming out of the water, elegant and dangerous. He swallows hard as the already tight dress is now completely plastered to her every curve, extra weight from the water dragging down the bodice and exposing her breasts into the view of prying eyes. His hands itch and twitch slightly with the aborted impulse to run his hands over those curves that he knows the feel and taste of by heart and part of him suddenly wants to shield her from the weight of everyone’s gaze. She shouldn’t be put on display for all of these morons— they already live enough in the spotlight and she doesn’t need any extra attention. He knows he's probably red-faced from anger and arousal, and he tries very hard not to stare at anything below her face lest he draw any more attention to them than they’re already getting.

She tries to stalk past him, reaction likely fueled by anger and embarrassment while she’s probably desperately trying to figure out how to spin this and minimize the disruption to the event and her reputation. He finds himself angry and embarrassed on her behalf, ready to take someone’s head off for the disruption of everything and the mess they’re going to have to clean up in the morning over this.The possessive side of him is seething that anyone dared touch or upset her, and he’s ready to put them into the pool or worse. He already fucking hated Los Angeles and now he hates it even more. 

A young lady rushes over with towels, a string of apologies and concerns flying from her mouth at a rapid rate. One of Posner’s assistants, if he remembers correctly. He growls and snatches the towels forcefully away from her and she flinches and goes silent, looking at him fearfully. He doesn’t really care about the fragile emotions of some girl right now— she’s just an annoyance in his way. He hands one of the towels to CJ to wipe her face with, stepping in close and protectively draping the other one around her shoulders, trying to subtly cover her chest while not drawing too much attention.

She gives him another angry glare but reluctantly lets him into her space without too much resistance. Part of him wants desperately to touch her, soothe her by stroking her back and whispering in her ear about how she’s fucking gorgeous wet or dry, but he knows this is far from the time or place with the attention of half of L.A. squarely on the both of them. Instead he goes back to doing his part to try to intimidate the staring hordes into leaving them alone and moving on. It seems to be mildly effective but he startles when she gives a small yelp of pain, quiet enough that most people wouldn’t hear it. 

Just fucking great, he thinks. She must have gotten hurt somehow when she fell into the pool. His anger comes roaring back again at the idea that she’s been hurt on top of the catastrophe this already is. He has to bite his own cheek hard enough to draw blood to squash the impulse to go find whoever shoved her into the pool and do more than just shove *them* into a pool. Down, boy. That would the shit cherry on top of this mess and he doesn’t need to make it any worse by drawing attention in neon lights to a relationship that they’ve been keeping secret for the better part of a year now. His hands clench involuntarily into fists but he keeps them pinned to his sides, trying to draw as little attention to either of them as possible. 

He quickly cuts off her path of escape to at least assess how badly she’s hurt, forcing her to stop and talk to him momentarily before she stomps off to somewhere in the house to lick her wounds. “You ok?'” he asks quietly.

“No,” she spits angrily, giving him a look that screams ‘get the hell out of the way’. He watches as she tries to gather up part of her dress as it drips water everywhere and tries to take another step. She's slightly wobbly but moves confidently past him, trying not to show any indication of weakness. You’d have to know how she moves to see the hitch in her usually smooth gait; she’s covering it well. He lets her move past him but refuses to budge from her side, observing every step and movement for any other indications of injury. Let the tongues wag, he thinks. They’ll blow this all out of proportion as it is, no matter how properly or not he behaves. He’s too pissed to care about it anymore and it’s not like he won’t already be doing damage control over this stupidity for the next couple days or more. She grabs his shoulder suddenly, stopping him, and his heart skips a beat until he realizes she’s just using him as a prop to lean on to take off her heels. He stands there silently, holding out his hand for the heels, a habit formed from countless times where Andi expected him to carry them for her at the end of the night. 

CJ gives him a stubborn look but he doesn’t budge, hand held out in expectation. She sighs and relents, handing him her heels, and he slips each of the ankle straps through a finger and lets them dangle by his side. He offers her an arm as a crutch, and even though she's still radiating anger her eyes soften towards him. He knows that she knows he wants to do more to help but won’t jeopardize their secrecy over something this minor. Let them all speculate, write them up in the gossip columns. He is simply offering a longtime friend and colleague help after being hurt, that’s all. She refuses the arm but he continues to stay close to her, walking in step with her as they make their retreat into the house as both of them glare and practically growl at anyone who gets within five feet of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in good news, the whole thing is drafted, including the chapter layouts! It ended up being far bigger than expected. o.0
> 
> The bad news: I'm doing this all by my lonesome, and 2020 keeps... well.... being 2020. However many curveballs it can throw at me, it can. This last week has been a brand new level of WTF.
> 
> I promise it's all there and it's a matter of me being able to sit down and refine it so that I don't feel like I'm just throwing junk out there.

He’s so focused on watching CJ for any indication of how she’s hurt that he almost doesn’t see Abbey headed their way until she’s practically in front of them, blocking their path of escape into the house. He tries to school his face into a neutral expression, but he's not sure he succeeds.

“Oh my god, CJ, are you okay?” He watches as Abbey looks her up and down, mother and doctor instincts fighting for dominance.

“Yes ma'am,” CJ says coolly, clearly trying to dismiss Abbey and get away from the situation as quickly as possible.

“No,” Toby says, earning a volcanically hot expression of anger from CJ. Her annoyance with him is tangible, but he's not going to apologize for speaking up. He’s more worried about her potential injuries than the likely highly entertaining image they’re creating right now and the potential repercussions of this debacle at this point. She's limping, and although it's likely not serious, CJ’s safety is still his highest priority right now. He wants her thoroughly checked out by Abbey-- even if CJ doesn’t. He’ll figure out how to sort out the rest later. 

“CJ?” Abbey asks, now rather concerned. “What happened?”

“Really, I’m ok. Thank you for your concern ma’am,” CJ insists.

“I think she hurt her ankle, ma'am,” Toby says quietly. CJ hits him hard on the arm. “Ow!” he hisses, looking at her sideways. So much for keeping it low profile.

“Claudia Jean!” Abbey exclaims, part surprised but mostly amused.

“She's limping,” he adds, trying to silently implore Abbey to believe him and ignore CJ’s protests. CJ shoots him a look that says he’ll be in the doghouse for the foreseeable future. He sighs. So much for their night they’ve been waiting for for weeks, he thinks glumly. He’ll be lucky if she lets him even sit next to her anytime soon.

Abbey makes a clucking noise of disapproval. “Anything else? Did you hit your head?”

CJ hangs her head in resignation. “No, ma'am. Maybe a couple scrapes, but just the ankle. And it’s not that bad, he’s overreacting.” 

Toby rolls his eyes.

He feels guilty that he didn’t notice anything other than the ankle, and now he really has to resist the urge to check her over himself. Everyone won't ask any questions if Abbey looks her over, but they might as well be writing the article for the hill gossip column themselves if he does. His anxiety ratchets up a notch, and his hands twitch with the need to touch her and assure himself that she’s really ok. Instead he hovers, watching unhappily as CJ takes Abbey’s proffered arm and can’t hold in a noise of frustration in knowing that she’s more hurt than she let on if she was willing to take Abbey’s help.

“Let's go get you checked out,” Abbey says in a motherly tone. Both ladies steadfastly ignore his presence but he stays close to them, acting as their guard dog and silently daring anyone who even looks in their direction to challenge him. The trio finally makes their way to a guest room where he watches CJ sink unceremoniously down on the bed and something in his heart twists a little. He doesn’t like that she’s hurt, even if it’s minor. 

Now that they’re out of sight of prying eyes, he edges closer to the bed, hovering just beyond the edge of proper distance away from CJ but not actually making contact. Part of him desperately wants to know how badly she’s actually hurt and take care of her, warm her up with his hands and mouth, take her back to the hotel and peel the soaked garment off her. Another part of him still aches to take her to bed, craftily keeping her mind off her foot and this PR nightmare for a few blissful hours before they have to start figuring out how to clean all of this up tomorrow.

“Toby,” Abbey says.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Can you go get some ice and maybe something for her to change into?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He gives CJ one last look, shutting the door behind him. 

Abbey examines CJ’s arms and shoulders for scrapes, talking to her to provide distraction from the situation at hand. 

“He’s acting about like Jed does when he’s unhappy about something,” she says with a smile. 

CJ smiles at that. He did make an effort to not make too much of a scene, to his credit. She can tell it was eating at him to stay silent, and she knows just how much of one he can make if he wants to. Not to mention he’s made them over far less than this mess.

“I pity whoever he comes across. It’s not going to go well.” Abbey seems satisfied with her inspection, seeming to not find anything worth dwelling on. “He’s not going to let you out of his sight for the rest of the night, is he?” Abbey says, laughing softly. 

“Oh, no.” CJ says with a chuckle of her own. “The only thing that might stop him would be when I shut the door in his face, but when he’s in this kind of mood I might just find him still pacing outside the door tomorrow morning in his tux.”

“He really can be sweet in his own way. He cares very deeply.” CJ can feel the ‘about you’ portion hanging in the air unsaid.

CJ can feel herself blush and has to bite her tongue to keep from reacting further. She knows while she’s pissed at whoever shoved her into the pool for interrupting the night and causing general chaos, he’s probably itching to clock the guy a new one before shoving him in the pool too. He can be overly protective and a bit territorial at times about her, but it does also sting worse sometimes that they have to keep this all so quiet.

“Well, I don’t think you’ve hurt it bad enough for an x-ray, but I’d like to take a look at it tomorrow and we’ll need to keep an eye on it for a couple days. No heels for you for a few days either.”

CJ is about to object to this order as she takes a mental inventory of her suitcase, but Abbey cuts her off. “I’ll have one of the staffers get you some shoes and some things for your ankle. No buts.” 

CJ closes her mouth before she can fully form an objection. “Yes ma’am,” she says feeling rather downtrodden.

“I think maybe Toby should accompany you back to the hotel… for the sake of the rest of us and the idiot who thought this was a good idea. I can’t imagine this will end well if Toby’s in the same room with this guy tonight, and we’ve already had enough excitement. I’m sorry you already had to ‘take one for the team’-- think you can take one more? You need to go put your ankle up and ice it for the rest of the night. While we could send Mike with you to get you set up, I get the feeling that Toby might prefer to do it himself and I think he’ll be able to do just about as good of a job keeping everyone away as well. Two birds, one stone.” Abbey says with a conspiratorial smile and a sparkle in her eye. Abbey doesn’t know just how attentive Toby might get…. Or does she? CJ wonders. 

Toby’s likely going to turn into a doting worrywart as soon as they get away from prying eyes, and she’s not sure she has the energy to handle both him and this mess tonight. She’s really mostly fine, but he’ll inevitably be upset and wanting to stay close to her even though she just wants to crawl in a hole and forget this all happened. She’s going to have an uphill battle in getting him to go to his room tonight, even though their original plans are going to have to be scrapped as she’s definitely not in the mood anymore. She sighs in frustration.

Abbey’s expression changes, thinking she’s read the situation all wrong. “I can call Mike…”

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re right.” CJ says quickly. “You’re right on all fronts,” she says, trying to give subtle acknowledgement to Abbey’s assessment of her and Toby as well. “I just…. This is a disaster. A complete fucking disaster.”

Abbey sits down next to her and throws an arm around her shoulder, giving her a motherly squeeze.

“I know. And you’ll get it sorted out tomorrow. Give it a week and nobody will even care. It’ll become one of those stories for the ages from the trenches. But if it makes you feel any better, you took the whole situation better than even I could, and probably could have scared everyone out of your way on your own without his help.” CJ smiles a little at that, despite everything. 

A soft knock at the door startles them both. Not Toby, CJ thinks. He’d just have barged his way back in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all owe baranskibitch a big thank you for being willing to ~~be the sacrificial lamb~~ beta for me. Things MIGHT be able to roll out a bit faster now.... if I can get the rest of my life in order. 
> 
> Sorry this one's a bit on the short side, but we gotta go with the natural breaks.

“Hi.” A slightly nervous Sam is hovering in the doorway. “Ma’am.” 

“Hi Sam,” Abbey replies.

“Are you ok, CJ?” he says, taking a step into the room.

CJ sighs. “Yeah, I’m ok. Thanks.”

Sam stands there looking awkward for a couple seconds and then Abbey steps in. “CJ needs to go put her foot up, doctor’s orders. Could you please tell Mike to get one of the cars to come around and get Lily for me?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Sam.” 

Sam is soon replaced in the doorway by a harried Toby, trying to juggle multiple things in his arms and radiating annoyance.

Abbey gently nudges CJ with her shoulder and they both share a conspiratorial smile. The show is about to begin.

“Nobody could find you anything in this idiotic place to wear other than these stupid shoes, so I took a blanket from…. somewhere…. if you need it. Here’s some ice, I could at least find someone who could manage that simple direction. And here,” he says, handing her a glass of something. He’s looking down at her with hooded eyes, and although he’s clearly worked up about the whole situation, he’s obviously worried about her too.

CJ’s pretty sure she hears Abbey trying to bite back a laugh. Hurricane Toby has hit, and he’s going to be insufferably protective of her for the next few days at this rate. He knows Jack isn’t her favorite but she’ll drink it. He’s probably taken a few sips already in an attempt to calm himself down slightly and doesn’t think anything of giving her the rest.

“Toby, could you please accompany CJ back to the hotel? I could send her with Mike, but it seems maybe it would be time better spent for you to take her back and get her settled in instead. I just sent Sam to get one of the cars sent around to take her back.”

He freezes, turning to Abbey, almost like he forgot she was even there.

“Yes, yes, of course, ma’am,” he says, acknowledging her orders and then turning his attention back to CJ.

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“You doing ok?”

“If by ok, you mean ‘trying to figure out how we’re going to handle this unmitigated disaster and wondering if I’ll ever be able to get my reputation back after this’, then yes, I’m just fine.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand across his forehead, pacing back and forth. “We’ll figure this out. Nobody’s going to care about this in a couple days, and hopefully nobody will remember this a few weeks from now. I hate everything about this god awful city even more now.”

Now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, her ankle is actually starting to hurt a bit and the scrapes on her bare shoulder and arm sting. She just wants to cry and scream and disappear, and her shoulders sag a little as she looks down. She can’t get out of here fast enough. 

He tips her chin up gently to look at him, looking into her eyes. “ Hey. For what it’s worth, you looked like some sort of vengeful sea goddess rising from the depths of that pool, ready to smite us all for crossing you. I thought Josh was going to trip over himself trying to back away from you,” he says, chuckling dryly. She manages a weak smile at that, watching all sorts of things play through his eyes-- worry, comfort, anger, love and even a hint of arousal.

“CJ, go back to the hotel. Toby, take care of her and make sure she gets there ok.” Abbey orders, breaking the moment.

Toby jumps, letting go of her chin like he just got hit with a little electric shock, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Yes, ma’am, of course.”

“I mean it. See to it that she has *everything* she could possibly need tonight before you leave her room.”

He looks directly at Abbey, keying in to the fact that she’s figured out that there’s more between him and CJ than what people would think on the surface.

“Absolutely.” he says, firmly.

“Come on,” he says gently, holding out an arm for her to use if she wants to get up. “The car should be there soon if not already there. Put these atrocious things on and let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all owe baranskibitch for doing a great job helping to get this (and eventually some other pieces!) out...

She doesn’t want to think about the picture they make-- an angry bald man in a tuxedo accompanying a woman who looks like a drowned rat, makeup smeared all over her face and limping with a pair of too small neon green flip flops on her feet. She tries to get into the elevator as fast as possible, and he digs around in her purse for her keycard while they ride to the 9th floor.

As soon as the room door shuts behind them he grabs for her waist, stopping her and moving around in front of her to kiss her softly but thoroughly, resting his forehead against hers when they inevitably have to breathe. 

“I hate everything about this godforsaken place right now, except this. Are you really ok?”

Now that they’ve escaped back to the hotel, it’s getting harder to resist the urge to cry although she’s still hanging on at the moment. She pulls him into her arms and he settles his face into her neck as she rests her cheek against the top of his head. 

She laughs bitterly. “I look like a drowned raccoon and my dress and shoes are completely ruined, not to mention my reputation.”

“War paint,” he says, leaning up to kiss sweetly below each eye. “Still gorgeous.” He kisses her again, this time much more thoroughly. “Fuck them,” he says, kissing down her neck.

She smiles at that-- he does know the right things to say sometimes, for as much as he can screw things up. Part of her wants to stay mad at him, but she really has been looking forward to having this night with him in the hotel for weeks.

“God, what you did to me, though, coming out of that water, that dress plastered to your every curve, ready to kill us all, a vengeful sea goddess or something. Fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs into her neck, kissing it softly and running his hands up her back. “I wanted to be that water…. that fabric… peel it off of you right then,” he says between kisses down her collarbone. 

Her foot does hurt, but the fire he’s slowly stoking in her core is making it easy to ignore right now. She definitely won’t be up to anything particularly athletic, but maybe their plans won’t have to be completely cancelled after all. He can be incredibly loving and generous at times, has a surprising amount of tricks up his sleeve, and seems to be still very into continuing their plans for the night.

She starts to relax into his attention when there’s a sudden knock at the door. 

He groans and starts muttering expletives under his breath, reluctantly loosening his grip on her.

Another knock.

“Ms. Cregg?”

Neither of them recognize the voice and exchange looks of suspicion.

“Yes?” she calls out, not yet moving towards the door.

“Concierge,” calls out the voice on the other side.

“Be there in a second,” she replies. 

Toby reluctantly lets go and leaves her with a soft kiss, moving over to answer the door. He looks through the peephole to find a concierge with a cart laden with various bags and items.

Toby pulls open the door with a growl, and the only indication that the concierge is surprised to find an angry man opening the door is a momentary change in expression. “Yes?”

“Delivery for Ms. Cregg.”

Toby moves out of the way and lets the man through, pushing a cart with food on the top and multiple bags of various sizes and compositions on the bottom.

The man turns to Toby. “Are you Mr. Ziegler?”

“Yes,” Toby says slowly, annoyed but now curious.

The man hands him an envelope, and Toby reaches out to take it with one hand, patting at his pockets and realizing he has nothing to tip the man with.

“It’s taken care of. Have a good evening, and please let us know if you are in need of anything else during your stay,” says the concierge as he leaves. 

Toby opens the letter to find a hastily scrawled note from Dr. Bartlet, noting most of what could be found on the cart is to help him keep her happy and taken care of tonight, plus basic instructions on how to care for her ankle. 

CJ looks at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for him to explain the contents of the note.

“It seems Abbey has sent an unusual sort of care package for you tonight.” They both go over to sift through the contents to see what treasures await-- dinner for each of them, some new shoes for CJ, bandages and a brace for her ankle, some cold packs, a bottle of scotch and a bottle of wine, a bottle of aspirin, and a box of rather nice chocolates. 

“Seems like not all of this is for me,” CJ says as she holds up the bottle of scotch. He slides his arms back around her waist and kisses her again. “I’m part of the care package, I think,” he murmurs into her ear.

She arches her neck for him and places one arm along his, grasping his hands with hers. “She did order me to take care of your *every* need, after all," he says as he kisses across her shoulder and neck. She hums contentedly against his ministrations, but her ankle really is starting to hurt and it’s becoming too distracting. 

She pushes him away gently and a little reluctantly. “Let me clean up and change out of this stupid thing and sit down,” she says.

“Shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry,” he says, clearly annoyed at himself and stepping back from her immediately. She can see the guilt etched into his eyes. “Let me?” he says, softly, moving his hands to her back to unzip her dress. “Just that,” she says, and the flash of guilt and self loathing grows in his eyes. “I want to get this mess of makeup completely off my face, and take a shower first.”

His hands are soft and almost reverent as they move over every inch of skin he exposes by peeling her dress away from her body until it finally puddles onto the floor. He’s unmistakably aroused but he steadfastly obeys her wishes and keeps a surprising amount of distance and control. His careful worship of her body kicks the fire in her belly up a notch and she contemplates ditching the shower and just pulling him to the bed instead when it hits her how hot it is that she’s standing completely naked in front of him while he’s still dressed to the nines in his tux. She decides to file that away in her mind and explore that kink another day. 

“Thank you,” she says, and rewards him with a kiss. He stays still, reluctant to let her go. 

“Are you going to be ok in the shower on your own?” he asks, a bit worried.

“I don’t know,” she says, stroking her thumb along his temple, a habit she doesn’t know when exactly she picked up. “I might need some help washing those hard to reach places after I get all this taken care of.”

His eyes flash with sudden warmth and a low rumble tumbles out of his chest at the thought. “Yeah, ok,” he says, brightening a little. She gives him a kiss and steps out of the dress and limps over towards her suitcase. The silence is broken a few moments later by the heavy thunk of the door as he leaves.


	5. Chapter 5

He hasn’t returned by the time she’s actually ready to get into the shower, and she knows he’s probably handling a few calls and will eventually be back. She just hopes he remembered to take both keycards with him because she’s not going to get out of the shower to come let him in.

Lucky for her, the bath has handrails and she can use one to take the weight off her ankle as she tries to climb over the high tub. She relaxes into the hot spray and eventually lets the tears of pain and embarrassment come in her few minutes of privacy. She’s not sure how long she’s been frozen there drowning in her own tears when she feels the cold air hit as he pushes back the shower curtain and a “here, take this--”. She opens her eyes to see he’s put down something and is hastily climbing into the shower, clutching her tightly to him and kissing her head, murmuring nonsense and rocking her gently.

“Hey, hey, hey… shhhhh…” 

She just lets him take a bit of the burden for a while, unloading all the stress and chaos from the last few months into his skin. His solid frame comes in handy as an anchor as the waves of emotion wash over her, and it feels like he’s trying to merge them into a single being by clutching her to him so tightly. 

“Hey,” he says, cautiously breaking the silence when she finally seems to have cried herself out. 

“You ok now? Want to tell me what just happened?”

“Yes. No.”

He sighs at her in frustration, nuzzling against her cheek, but doesn’t push the issue.

“I think maybe we should get some food into you and finish up this shower thing for now. Abbey really didn’t want you up on your feet at all tonight and left me in charge of making sure you actually rested.” He nudges her gently away from his chest and fumbles around for the shampoo, dropping the bottle at first and she has to fight the ghost of a smile. Smooth, he is not, but the charm is definitely there in droves. 

She hums in pleasure as he thoroughly massages her scalp, running his fingers over and over through her hair-- one of his favorite indulgences in the quiet moments that seem to be fewer and fewer as time goes on. He knows she doesn’t like having to fix her hair just because he loves to run his fingers through it, so his hands tend to gravitate there when the opportunity presents itself.

He runs the soap over her from head to toe, taking extra time to massage her breasts thoroughly, movements smooth from the water and soap. She moans, arching into his touch, and can feel his erection digging into her thigh. She knows he’s probably been hard for a while now, but when he gets like this, he’ll go quite a long time before caving to temptation. He turns her around and kisses her, pulling her tight against him once again and it’s her turn to start to get heated down below. 

He lets go of her reluctantly and gets to the business of cleaning himself up to get them both out of the shower and on to better things, but she heads him off by taking the soap from him with a thorough kiss of her own and starts exploring the planes and curves of his solid build. She watches sparks jump along his skin when she cards her fingers through the hair on his chest and thighs, and he groans when she decides that his now very hard cock needs a thorough cleaning of its own. 

She can tell it pains him to do so, but he grasps her wrist, stilling her hand and angles his groin away. “I think we’ve tempted the wrath of the whatever from high atop the thing enough today,” he says in a strained tone. "Let's take this somewhere else.” 

"Yeah," she says darkly, and she can’t stop the bark of a derisive laugh.

"Hey, he says, framing her face in his hands and tipping her face up to look him in the eye. "Despite your penchant for falling into pools in LA in front of me, none of this was your fault this time."

He's never quite let her live down falling into her own pool when he came to retrieve her himself in the early days of the campaign, and even back then they barely got back into the house before he had her up against the wall. Apparently he has a thing for her angry and wet. 

She chuckles dryly, still upset about the whole situation. "I still don't want to think about the sheer amount of damage control I'm going to have to do."

He laughs bitterly. "Much less than if that moron Begnini had ended up anywhere in my sightline," he growls. 

A genuine smile tints the corners of her mouth. "Easy there, Caveman." Toby makes a gutteral noise, grabs her by the hips, pulls her swiftly to him and bites down sharply on her neck. She laughs in delight at his antics, but it is cut off by a jolt of pain from her ankle. 

“Ah, hell,” he says, letting her go. “Out. Out. Out now,” he says, turning around to shut off the taps and grabbing for towels. “Don’t. Move. Don’t even think about it.” She takes a small step, reaching out for a towel, and he glares at her. “Do not make me actually pick you up and carry you, woman. I will.” She glares back because she hates when he tries to do that, but there’s not a lot of venom behind her expression. 

He hands her a towel for her face and ties another one around his waist, offering her a hand out of the tub. She steps out onto the bathmat and finds herself under a gentle assault from Toby, who dries her off with another towel and lets his touch linger as much as possible. When he seems to be satisfied with his work, she takes the towel from him and does her own circuit of his upper body and scrubs at his hair before giving him a kiss in thanks.

He goes to get her the hotel robe and she follows him, testing her ankle. Annoying but ok. Stairs won't be that pleasant tomorrow, but she's handled worse. He frowns at her, handing her the robe. "I told you to stay there," he grouses. 

She can't decide if it's sweet or annoying when he's like this, but she tolerates it with grace for the most part.

"I'm not made of glass," she says and he blushes slightly, giving her a hangdog look as he hands her the robe. He watches her and looks a bit bereft at the covering of her flesh.

She tugs on the towel tied around his waist, loosening it. “The view’s not bad, but you’re going to get cold in just that towel.” This gets her a half smile and him to leave her alone long enough to escape the bathroom and his ever present vigilance as he puts on his usual t-shirt and boxers. 

She sits down on the bed and it feels like the weight of her exhaustion is an extra layer of gravity pushing her further into the mattress. She sits there for a moment until he comes up and cups her chin gently in his hand, tilting her head up to look at him. “Hi,” he says quietly, searching her eyes. Sometimes it feels like he can look straight through her, and this time his eyes are tinged with guilt and concern but also the look she’s come to learn is his own special expression of adoration. “Hi,” she says back.

“How about you let me get a better look at your ankle? Abbey sent over some specific instructions and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to hear it from her tomorrow morning after the last few days.”

She laughs in response, but she knows it’s got a bitter tone to it. She just wants to forget all of this ever happened and run far, far away. They’ve still got to figure out how to deal with the upcoming fallout from tonight and she doesn’t have enough energy in her right now to know where to start. He slowly runs his thumb back and forth against her cheek and she gives a half smile. His gentle moments are unusual, so she tries to take them in fully when they appear. She has to resist the urge to bat his hands away in frustration at his solicitousness as he helps her sit up against the headboard, reminding herself to take the quiet moment in. 

He gets a pillow to rest her ankle on, picking her leg up ever so carefully and placing it down like a stiff breeze would break it apart. She catches the hem of his shirt and tugs him over for a kiss in reward, drawing a contented rumble out of him as she lets her hands drift up to his love handles that he’s amusingly insecure about sometimes. She finds the solid feeling under her hands surprisingly more enticing than she ever would have predicted. It amuses her.

He smiles. “Stop trying to distract me… however enticing that distraction might be,” he says between kisses. “Temptress.”

That draws a genuine laugh out of her and she lets him go so that he can set about to whatever he’s been tasked by Abbey. She watches him dig around in the various packages on the cart, holding the note as far away as he can manage without his reading glasses, squinting slightly. She tries not to snicker in amusement, but also finds it a bit endearing. When did she become so easily charmed by him?


	6. Chapter 6

After a fair amount of rummaging, he comes back with an ace bandage and a white plastic pouch which he places on the bed and turns his famously bullheaded attention solely on her ankle. He picks her leg up gently with one hand, fingers ghosting over her foot with a touch so delicate she almost can’t feel it. It feels weird, but good. She resists the urge to squirm under the attention, instead letting him make his delicate inspection without interruption.

He places her foot back down on the pillow, frowning and rubbing his fingers with his thumb in this way he does when he’s getting agitated. He sighs, shifting his weight back and forth, but not quite pacing. “I don’t like this, it doesn’t look good. I’m calling Abbey.” 

“Will you stop? First of all, no, you’re not. Secondly, she made me promise to let her check it out in the morning, and third, I’m pretty sure she already gave us her ‘Doctor’s orders’ for the night.”

He stops moving for a second and considers. There’s something weird about him towering over her. She’s not used to the perspective.

“Toby. You play basketball, there’s no way you haven’t rolled your ankle before. You know what that feels like. That’s all it is, I promise. You know she wouldn’t have let me go if she had any significant concerns.”

“I don’t like it.” 

“I know you don’t, and neither do I, for obvious reasons. Now will you please release yourself from the knots you have managed to twist yourself into in a surprisingly short amount of time and calm the hell down?”

He grunts in response.

“Toby.”

Another grunt, but the pacing has slowed. 

“Stop and consider, if you will, that there might be multiple solutions to this that don’t involve you being upset that I’m hurt. There might even be things you can do to help make it better.”

He has the wherewithal to at least look embarrassed and sits down on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry…. I…just….” He makes a wordless noise of frustration. “Everything. You know, I think I may have said sorry more to you tonight than I have in my lifetime. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

She smacks him on the arm, but it’s more playful than punitive. 

“Alright, I’m considering. Is there something in particular you’d prefer in your bank of solutions, there?”

“Well, getting your head out of your ass was a good place to start.”

He rolls his eyes. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll take my tremendous bank of nursemaid skills to some other beautiful but mouthy damsel in distress who will be more appreciative of my efforts.”

He pushes himself up off the bed and disappears back into the bathroom momentarily.

“Here.” He hands her a drinking glass full of wine and 2 aspirin. “That’s where I was starting with the taking care of you thing before… everything else happened. I think it’s time to return to my original plan.”

“Oh, he has a plan now, does he?” she smirks. 

He sighs and shuffles his feet. “Look, I’m a colossal asshole. I get it.” He moves away from the bed towards the cart. 

“Hey,” she calls out and he turns back to her. “Come here.” He walks back over to the bed and she tugs on his t-shirt, urging him to sit back down. She pushes herself up off the pillows and kisses him, slinging an arm around his neck as he wraps an arm around her to help hold her up. “You’re my asshole, ok? Tell that other damsel in distress that she’s got to find her own. This one’s mine.” 

He gives her that look where he wants to say ‘I love you’ but he can’t make himself form the words, and it’s enough. He knows he’s forgiven, but he is really feeling guilty now. Guilty is better than earlier, at least. She’s tired and overwrought and a whole lot of other things, and she just doesn’t have the energy to deal with him being too mercurial tonight. Guilty’s a known quantity. 

He tangles his fingers through her hair, sighs, and moves to get up. “Just… stay there. Ok? Please?” She watches him wander back to the pile of packages, this time searching for the note, reading it and digging through everything, finally settling on an ace bandage and a cold pack. 

He comes over to wrap her ankle, frowning deeply as he stares at it.

“I still don’t like the look of it. It’s starting to bruise up a little.”

“I know.”

“This is going to hurt. I don’t like that I have to hurt you, even for your own sake.”

“I know.”

“Maybe we should--”

“Toby!”

“Ok, ok… It should be tight, but tell me if something feels really wrong, ok?”

He ends up neatly and efficiently wrapping her ankle and she’s actually kind of impressed at the final outcome. Maybe there’s some hidden nursemaid skills in there after all, even if bedside manner isn’t one of them.

He picks her foot up and places a gossamer kiss on the ball of it before gently placing it back on the bed. He comes to the other side and takes a couple pillows, setting her ankle on top of them. He squeezes the cold pack until it pops, a strange grin settling over his face at the sound. Maybe he liked that a bit too much, she thinks as he shakes it and places it carefully along the outside of her foot. 

He’s tentative and exceedingly gentle, grossly unlike the Toby everyone is used to. These are the moments that throw her, the incongruencies that nobody would believe him capable of, the side he only lets her see for a few moments at a time.

He moves back to the cart, gathering silverware and taking the lids off the plates. 

“Well, it’s cold by now, but that shouldn’t matter too much for you since I’ve got actual food and you’ve got what food eats.” He brings over bundled silverware and salad. It looks pretty good-- she forgot about being hungry after all the chaos. 

“You want anything else?”

“No. Come sit,” she says, patting the space beside her.

“Working on it,” he says, as he takes her glass to refill it with the wine, setting it on the nightstand next to her. He turns the TV to CNN, setting the volume low, and fixes his own dinner and drink before settling down next to her, legs touching. She likes the warmth and feel of him right there.

She glances at his plate and smiles. A steak and fries. Good ordering by whoever arranged this, even if it is cold. He’ll still eat it. Otherwise, he might drink half the bottle of Jack if left to his own devices. 

They eat quietly for a few minutes, watching the chiron scroll by. She tries to surreptitiously steal a fry from his plate and waits for the inevitable comment. It doesn’t come. She does it again. This time he pauses momentarily, but still lets it go. This is getting weird, she thinks. By now there’d be at least one comment about how she needs to get her own or eat some actual food once in a while, but he still lets her steal as many as she wants. 

This time she’s bold about it, watching him for a reaction. His eyes follow her, but the rest of his body stays still. 

“Openly letting me take your fries? You *do* feel guilty.”

"Yeah,” he sighs, with a bit of self derision.

She lays a possessive hand on his thigh, rubbing back and forth gently with her thumb. “It’s as much your fault as mine, and you keep reminding me that it’s not my fault.”

“Yeah,” he says unconvincingly, staring at the TV and retreating into his own world. She sighs.

They finish dinner in a companionable silence, and when she’s done with hers she settles against him. He drops his knife and puts his arm around her shoulders, picking at the rest of his food with one hand, steadfastly watching the tv in silence. Part of her wants to be annoyed at his internalizing, but usually it’s the thing that saves them from going off the deep end. Plus after the last two days, she’s too tired to care anyway. He’s always been a challenge, but the one strangely worth stepping back in the ring for every time. 

She feels his attention shift from the tv to her, and she lets him ruminate for a bit, relaxing against the solid warmth of him. When she finally moves, she finds him looking at her with the expression that only comes out when he thinks he’s watching her without her knowing. It’s much more open, vulnerable, softer. Awe filled, like she’s some magical creature that will disappear if he dares blink. As soon as he realizes she’s noticing, something inside him withdraws, still not quite ready for that level of vulnerability-- maybe he never will be.

That isn’t to say that he’s not sweet or attentive or loving when he wants to be-- because he absolutely can be. He won’t show it to anyone else besides her, however. He can also be incredibly hurtful when he’s lashing out, and knows every button to push to get the maximum reaction out of her. His fiery nature isn’t limited to the debate podium-- he’s toe-curling good when he puts his mind to it and takes pride in making her scream with regularity, although the swaggering machismo the next day at times can be a bit much. The plus and minus of having the history they do is you know where the cuts will bleed the most, but you also know the right things to do to heal the wounds.

He grabs the plate from her lap and stacks it on top of his, getting up. “I suspect it’s about time to take the ice off your ankle anyway,” he says, snatching up the pack as he walks by and placing it all on the cart. 

“These look pretty fancy,” he says, bringing her the box of chocolates and climbing back onto the bed next to her, settling in against her and putting an arm around her shoulders.

She opens up the elegant wrapping and looks at the truffles inside. There are multiple sizes and shapes with little accents and considers her choices, picking one with what looks like a flower petal on the top.

She moans as she bites into it, mostly for show, but they are pretty good. High quality & handmade, probably a personal favorite of Abbey's. She closes her eyes to add a little drama and tries not to give away the act by laughing. 

She opens her eyes and looks over at him to find him ready to consume her for dessert instead of the chocolate. His mouth is slightly hanging open and the heat coming from his dark eyes could rival the surface of the sun. His intensity is heavy, and she can feel it all over her, settling into her stomach and starting a low burn.

She laughs in delight. There’s her Toby. He never fails to make her feel desired and loved despite all her flaws. He's attentive and creative, and she's already starting to get wet just thinking about what he might do when that look is directed at her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have now solidly crossed into explicit territory.... if that's not your thing, the last 2 chapters will not be of interest to you. If it is, please enjoy. :-)

Despite the quick turnaround trip and the fundraiser, they both had been looking forward to the idea of having a late night together in the hotel and the adventure that could come with it. The plans might have to be a bit altered, but no sense in thinking that they still can’t make something out of the night because of all of this drama.

She holds out the rest of the chocolate to him. "Want some?" she asks in an innocent tone.

His eyes never leave hers and he doesn't blink as he reaches for her wrist, bringing her hand to his mouth and accepting the chocolate, licking and sucking her fingers clean and letting them out of his mouth with a pop.

This time, the moan isn't for show as the heat in her core gets turned up a notch. Slow can be good-- very good-- and he knows how to do amazing things with that mouth besides argue. As much as she doesn't like the taste of tobacco on him, he has a hell of an oral fixation and a tongue that can work wonders beyond blowing smoke rings that he looks like he’s quite interested in making use of tonight. 

She leans in and kisses him thoroughly, and he makes a low contented rumble. He then slides himself over and straddles her hips, climbing into her lap. She lets her hands drift over whatever’s closest in reach, stroking aimlessly while he maps every millimeter of her mouth with his tongue at a leisurely pace.

Once they break for breath he sits back on his heels and pushes her hair out of her face. “Abbey gave me rather specific orders to make sure you were wanting for nothing tonight, my beauty,” he murmurs, pulling out all the stops in the charm department. "It appears you are still in want of something. I am remiss in my assigned duties and it seems that I might have to remedy that." 

She smiles as he kisses his way down her jaw and neck, arching her neck to give him access. He’s in quite the amorous mood it appears, and that always ends very well. While she does enjoy when he pours his intensity into solely pleasing her, she also enjoys when he gets swept up in desire and takes her fast and hard, even if his swagger is absolutely unbearable the next day. She’s reasonably sure there’s been more than one incident with Josh the next morning at staff because he can’t tone down his strut and well, men. She’d never admit it, even if you asked-- but she does secretly like that she’s the one that draws that reaction out of him, that she has that much power.

She could be very ok with slow and thorough tonight, especially given that nobody else is expected back from the fundraiser for another couple hours so they’ve essentially got stolen time on their hands. Not the ideal circumstances in which they obtained it, but she’ll take it since you can't change what's already happened.

He peels her robe open with a lecherous grin, sitting back on his heels a little. "My turn for dessert," he says, before pushing himself backwards slightly in order to trail his tongue and lips down to her breast, running his tongue in slow spirals. She moans and reaches for his ass, coming up short and instead getting a handful of his back that she squeezes tightly. He sucks and laves at a leisurely pace, slowly kneading the other like a content giant cat. He eventually moves his attention to the other breast, giving it the same slow treatment before moving back up to kiss her again. That movement is enough to move him back to within reach and she grabs his ass and pulls him against her. He makes a small noise of surprise but goes with it, and she finds him already deliciously hard but clearly not motivated to act on it yet. 

When they break for air, he places a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose and pushes away from her to get up. She makes a noise of disappointment but watches him move around to the foot of the bed and lean back over her, running his hands gently from just above her ankles to her knees, caressing slowly. She's curious, but waits patiently, knowing he is most definitely a leg man when it comes to her. He grasps both of her legs just above the knee, lifts her legs gently, and then jerks firmly downward towards the end of the bed. 

She squeaks in surprise but it quickly dissolves into laughter when she realizes he’s just repositioning her. She smiles at his playfulness, a rare but endearing event. Maybe she should get pushed into pools more often if this Toby is her reward. 

He lowers her legs slowly and gently against the foot of the bed, leaving him standing between her legs with his hands drifting aimlessly up and down her thighs, smiling down at her. “Hi,” she says with a smile, looking up at him. “Hey,” he says, before leaning down and covering her with his body with his and stealing another languorous kiss. 

She strokes up and down his back, every inch of flesh she can reach-- except it’s all under clothing. She makes a noise of annoyance and tugs at it. "Off," she says. He snorts in amusement and peels off his shirt and shorts quickly, and when he leans back in for another kiss, she happily runs her hands over every inch of his solid back that she can reach.

He starts to kiss and lick a trail down her neck and chest, slowly kneeling at the foot of the bed on the way down. While she misses having his warm flesh under her fingers, she feels a wave of arousal wash over her when she realizes exactly what's about to happen. He's amazing with his mouth and takes pride in making her scream and moan for him, his ego stroked with every sound. 

He takes his time as he kisses down across her abdomen, spending extra time on the small swell right above her bikini line. The fascination is his rather than hers and she's not quite ever figured it out. He moves a little lower, taking a deep breath like he is trying to draw her scent down into his bones, and she shifts in anticipation. He's in the mood to make this into exquisite torture for the both of them, and he's no less stubborn and determined in bed than on the hill.

He gently spreads her folds and takes a slow, broad swipe with his tongue, drawing out the anticipation. He does it again and this time she angles her hips towards his quick and talented mouth. He’s good, knows how to push every one of her buttons, and loves the slow burn.

He takes his time, slowly drawing reactions out of her like beads on a string. He takes pride in every moan she makes, every time she squirms and urges him on. He moves as if they have all the time in the world, and amps up her anticipation with gusto. She eventually gets to the point where she can’t sit still anymore, she’s so turned on. She needs more than this slow tease, and tries to get it with her hips against his face.

He places a strong arm across her hips, pushing her down into the bed and keeping her from moving.

"Careful," he admonishes. "The idea is for you to not put any pressure on the leg."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one, finally!
> 
> A big thanks to baranskibitch for stepping up to become a partner in crime. Thanks to her, there's some more stories on the horizon... ;-)

She makes a noise of frustration. Not only is he taking an eternity to do anything, he's technically right about not putting any pressure on her leg. She just doesn't want to hear about it until he's given her at least one orgasm after this drawn out torture. "I wouldn't have to if you'd apply some pressure yourself," she nearly growls. He laughs. 

"You mean this?" he says, pinning her hips harder onto the bed. This time she does growl in frustration and pushes her hips back toward him. "Or this?" he says smoothly as he slips a finger into her and thumbs her clit. She makes a noise of approval. It’s not enough, but a good start. He slips another into her and it’s a little better, but she wants him to just make her come already so he’ll get down to the fun part. When he’s in this mood, he won’t get down to the fucking until he’s made her come at least once, preferably screaming his name. 

“Toby…” she’s now in the range of whining and beyond caring at this point.

“So beautiful like this, a fighter with every breath, so ready for me already,” he says admiringly as he strokes her on the inside, slowly curling his fingers. 

Damn him and his charm, she thinks. She’s tired of the tease, but also secretly loves when he plays with words, the things so essential to his being, and tells her how much she is adored.

“I think you need a little more first,” he says as he puts his mouth back on her clit while still fucking her with his fingers. She clenches down involuntarily on his fingers and she can feel his smile against her as his lips and tongue dance across her once again and she reaches down to hold his head against her in encouragement.

He speeds up the pace of the thrust of his fingers and increases the suction on her clit. The increased pressure and pace is just what she needed and knows she’s pushing back against him but can’t be bothered to care-- not when she’s this close. The feeling is evasive, just out of reach, and it’s driving her crazy. He keeps up with her moans and movements, trying to tip her over the edge.

She finally comes, moaning both his name and curses to God. She opens her eyes when she feels him move away from her a little, and tugs at his hair to encourage him back up to kiss him.

“Feisty,” he says, grinning like the Cheshire Cat before he leans in to kiss her. She can taste herself on him, feel her wetness coating his beard. It's an odd sensation, but one she’s gotten used to given that he really loves to go down on her. 

She reaches for his cock -- painfully hard by now and finally within reach-- and he groans, losing some of the finely honed control he had been holding over her. She grins, stroking him slowly. Her turn. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

He grunts, thrusting a little into her hand, but she doesn’t let up on the slow tease. 

“Hmmmmm… I think I need this too,” she says with a sly grin of her own. He groans again.

“Well, you are to want for nothing, so your wish is my command tonight,” he says, shifting so he can keep most of his weight off of her as she pulls him towards her and he pushes inside her slowly and leans in to kiss her again. 

He breaks away and hisses as she clenches around him, biting his lip and closing his eyes. Someone’s a bit on the edge, she thinks with amusement. She clenches down on him hard on purpose. He glares at her and she laughs. 

“Keep doing that and this won’t last long,” he growls. She does it again. He makes a strangled noise and his expression flashes between pleasure and tortured, and she pulls him in for another extended kiss, stroking down his back to calm him down. 

She grabs his ass and encourages him to move, slow at first. He loves to watch her, staring into her eyes as he slides in and out of her. He shifts his weight and adds his fingers to her clit and she can feel the pressure start to build again. When he’s in this mood, he won’t come until she does again or he bursts a blood vessel-- whatever comes first-- so she decides to help him along.

“Yes, like that… More… Fuck me hard. I want to feel you everywhere.” he makes a strangled noise and picks up the pace significantly. 

She still feels a little weird about talking dirty and generally prefers to let actions speak for themselves, but the way he nearly rocketed out of his skin the first time she did it tends to convince her to pull it out of her arsenal every once in a while. She’s still never seen him come as hard as he did that first time, nearly passing out on her and making her worry that she gave him a heart attack. She’s learning to get over her hangups about it after seeing his reaction, although she’s still not quite comfortable yet. She feels like she’s in a bad porno flick when she talks dirty to him, but the reactions have been absolutely worth it. She figures should have known that words would be the things that blow his mind, given his propensity for them.

“Yes… that’s it, so good. You feel amazing, so hard, so thick, ” she says in a low tone. He redoubles his efforts on her clit and she moans. He leans down and suddenly takes her breast in his mouth and sucks roughly, taking her by surprise and pushing her over the edge, coming hard with a shout. She feels her breast drop out of his mouth and when she opens her eyes he’s staring at her like he’s a starving man and she’s the first meal he’s seen in weeks. “Come for me, I want to feel you fill me up," she says, still feeling a bit silly. He comes with a roar and a few final thrusts like he’s trying to split her in half, collapsing down on top of her and breathing hard against her neck. 

She grins. Works every time.

He finally comes back to himself and kisses her neck. "Cheater," he grumbles good-naturedly.

She laughs. "I didn't see you complaining at the time."

"Sorceress."

"Mmmhmm… keep telling yourself that, Tobus."

He shifts himself completely off her and sits up, the exhaustion finally catching up with him, she can tell. "You ok?" 

"Very." Two orgasms and an attentive lover make for a great sedative after all the adventure of the last couple days.

He snorts in amusement. "The leg?" 

She shrugs. "It's not too bad. A couple of orgasms make for decent painkillers." She sees his pride starting to peek out and she knows he is going to be insufferable tomorrow morning.

"Come on Romeo, I need a quick shower after that. You can help me in and out, but business only. I think you’re about to turn into a pumpkin."

"I don't want to think about the classics you just mangled there."

She rolls her eyes. "Come on," she says. “If we sleep now, there might be time for other activities in the morning before Abbey comes by to check my ankle. Then you can be even more insufferable to Josh tomorrow with actual reason.” 

He perks up instantly, but she can still see the shadows of exhaustion in his eyes. “How could I say no to that?” he says, pulling her up with a smile and pressing himself to her, stroking her back. She indulges him for a moment, but then pushes him away and tangles her fingers in his.

“Orgasms and annoying Josh? Two very high ranked items in the ‘Things That Please Toby’ list.”

“You’re forgetting the top ranked item,” he says. 

“Oh?” she asks, curious.

“You,” he says, giving her one last kiss and leading her back to the bathroom.


End file.
